Flesh, Blood and Titanium
by QueenQeeko
Summary: Set after the game. Vincent's POV. Vincent is unhappy with who he is, and he doesn't know how to fix the problem. Solitude tickles his fancy, but he finds he can't do it. Ch.4 uploaded. Pending re-write.
1. Still Not Human

Disclaimer:

I would absolutely love to own Final Fantasy VII and Vincent Valentine, but I don't, so I've got to make do with a little fanfic instead.

FF7, Vincent Valentine and everything else that's got to do with the FF7 world belongs to SquareSoft and not me.

Hear that? NOT ME!!!

By QueenQeeko.

**Flesh, Blood + Titanium.**

****

Chapter 1 – Still Not Human.

Clank.

That's the sound it makes.

Clank.

How long have I listened to it make that sound now?

Clank.

I do not remember if it made any other noises, besides when it clangs.

Clank.

No, that was another clank.

But it will clank again.

Clank. 

There you go.

It is always clanking, clanking, clanging and clanking.

Clank.

And always will as far as I can predict.

Clank.

Perhaps the clanking is simply there to remind me of its presence.

Clank. 

No, who could miss it? 

I will never be able to forget this cursed object.

Clank.

It doesn't need a reminder. 

Clank.

It IS a reminder.

Clank.

A reminder of loss, a reminder of mistakes and a reminder of guilt.

Clank.

A reminder of pain.

Clank.

Yes.

Clank.

Pain.

Clank.

_Pain._

Clank.

I should be used to pain by now.

Clank. 

After all, who is more deserving of pain than I?

Clank.

No one.

A demon such as myself walks a painful path of sorrow knowing all truth to treachery and redemption.

Clank.

And I will do it alone.

Clank.

Forever…

_HHhhoooOOOWWWWwwwlllLLLL_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't think the word 'pointless' means anything to these people. If it did, Junon's Mayor would realize that there's nothing cheerful, or friendly for that matter, in the look Cloud is giving him. 

This would have to be the fifth time we've had to stand above hundreds (or maybe_ thousands, _there's so many people no one could be bothered to count) of civilians and listen to some politician state the 'wondrous adventure and the victory at the end of a task one could only dream of in legends' thing over again.

I look over the side again, peering down at the greenish blue waters below the Junon cannon. It's lucky that I really have nothing better to do or anywhere to be. Well, lucky for the Mayor anyway. I guess that's why I'm standing here, with the other AVALANCHE members on top of one of the buildings, listening to very much the same thing they say every time. I think I'm beginning to predict every word that's about to come out of the Mayor's mouth, I've heard this enough times now. It's like a recording. Do they really doubt the public people's ability to remember our amazing feats that they have to say it again, just for the fifth time to make sure they got it? 

And I don't understand why we have to be here to listen to it either. We were there; they don't have to tell us what happened. Cloud looks as though he's contemplating how the Mayor's blood may look spread across his sword; he is stroking the blade a lot. Or maybe it's just my sick and twisted judgment.

Yuffie did tell me off for stating the bloodthirsty nature Tonberries, no matter how cute she believed they look. 

"Ew!! You didn't have to tell me that, Vinnie! I know what knives do!" she had screeched, firmly covering her ears.

A dud cigarette flies past my face, and I look questionably at Cid, who stands three places from me. Between us are RedXIII and Yuffie, Yuffie on my left with Red after her, then Cid, then Barrett and Tifa. 

"Sorry 'bout that, Vince," Cid whispers across to me, "But I wouldn't look too good a role model if I chucked it in the drink."

I shrug. I couldn't care less if the Junon seas received a cigarette or two. The city locals dump loads of much more environmentally harmful garbage into the waters that I doubt it would make much difference. RedXIII yawns and curls into a ball, already nodding as he sits. A yawn escapes me as well. Am I really that bored, or is it the yawn affect? Perhaps it's a combination of both.

"And today, the heroes stand before us, living legends, saviors of our planet!! Never forget their triumph over the godly powers of destruction!" the Mayor recites. Is it just me, or can anyone else tell he got those lines out of a book? Bad choice too, for that was the lamest attempt to sound respecting to us. 

"When you doubt life, remember their deeds, be proud of your purpose for life and always look forward to our brighter future!" We must be getting close to the end now, for I don't remember him saying that last time. Of course I was only half listening.

"And now AVALANCHE will answer some of the public's questions!" 

What?! Where did that come from? We all look to Cloud for an explanation about the Mayor suddenly dropping that on us. He just sighs tiredly and tells us "Just do your best guys."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Finally!!!!!" Yuffie exclaims, stretching hers arms and making a big show out of being stiff from lack of movement. I almost laugh, but I don't because I'm busy flexing my own neglected muscles. Besides, laughing would draw attention to me instantly, and I don't want that.

"That was so unfair, Cloud!" Yuffie continues, nearly tripping over her own feet as she runs around the Highwind deck, "How could you accept another public awarding? All he does is say how great we are and tell everyone we deserve special treatment! Woo! Hurray! I could tell you that!"

Cloud just rolls his eyes. "When they call you at two in the morning, requesting another appearance, you normally say anything just so they'd let you get back to sleep," Cloud defends, sagging his head forward as Tifa massages his shoulders. 

"Why didn't you just hang up?!"

"I did. They called back again."

"Pull the phone out of the wall!"

"I did that too. They called my cell phone."

"Turn it off!"

"I did. They threw another one through the window."

"Close the window!"

"I also did that. They broke the window."

I stay by the ladder for the moment, unsure if I want to listen to Yuffie's whining. I hazard that she'll quiet down as soon as Cid fires up the Highwind, so I make my decision and move inside. 

I suppose all these public appearances have at least kept us somewhat busy. Truthfully, I'm at a lost as to what I am to do now. It seems so long ago now, the day the coffin lid was removed from above me. Well, that was mostly my doing; it was the spiky haired individual who provoked it. After such long slumber, who'd have thought I'd be woken up to redeem myself. Supposedly, thirty years was pushing it a bit.

My hand finds my revolver, as I picture that moment, that sweet instant Hojo finally suffered for the torture he'd dealt me. I only chose to join AVALANCHE because it finally dawned on me that I could do something about paying Hojo back for reducing me to the wretched existence I am now. He'd wronged me. It had been too long a wait, but maybe, death was far too gentle a punishment for the deranged professor. 

Yes, definitely too gentle. He deserved a much more horrific death than the one he got, even to scrape the edge of pay back for what he did to my beloved. 

Pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind for a brief moment, I take my usual position on the bridge. The other AVALANCHE members file in as well, seemingly in better moods after a good griping. I notice with some satisfaction that Yuffie has not joined us. She knows the Highwind will move soon, and is probably staying by the hole in the last room for preparation.

"Well let's get out of here," Cid suggests, speaking the thoughts of everyone to a pretty accurate extent. He flips two switches and pulls one lever, presses four buttons and the ship lurches to life. The Highwind shakes and rumbles with power, the way it has always done but stronger now, ever since the emergency rockets were put into practice. We've all been traveling by airship for so long that no one loses balance at the start up anymore, with the exception of a certain ninja. Incidentally, I think I can hear her hacking up from here. We take off slower than usual, noticeably and without the need to mention it that we really have nothing to rush about anymore. Well, actually I myself have never had anything to rush about. Lack of enthusiasm maybe? It matters not. 

"Where are you going, Vincent?" Tifa asks me before I can escape through the doorway. 

"I'm just going out onto the deck, Tifa," I answer her truthfully, "I need some fresh air after Junon." I turn around half way to catch her accepting nod and sweet smile. Tifa is probably the one I respect the most out of all my AVALANCHE teammates. She is always willing to help anyone with any trouble they had, but is courteous enough to back off when time really called for it. A very good friend. I give her the ghost of a smile back, and then head out towards the deck. As I pass Yuffie in the engine room, I subconsciously halt my breathing in order to block out the scent of vomit that had caught the few unfortunate components in the way of her hurling. She pays no attention to my presence, and I don't bother showing that I acknowledged hers. 

Reaching the landing I step up to a railing and lean on it. The rush of the air current and the fresh scent it carries helps rejuvenate me, and I enjoy it all by myself.

I guess I find sanctuary in being alone. I've had it explained to me why it's bad: it's lonely. My, what bright sparks they are. But lonely is good sometimes. Being lonely allows your thoughts to wander, and to escape into yourself. I'd much rather be left alone with my thoughts than be constantly surrounded by chatting companions. Thankfully, the friends I have acquired on our quest are decent, and only speak when necessary. 

Except for Aerith, but she is no longer with us. I admit that I do miss Aerith, she was a gentle soul, and she died very young protecting an entire planet of people that never did anything for her in return. Or maybe she did it only for the planet itself and its life force. Whatever the case, I miss her. Hell, we all miss Aerith. Especially Cloud. No one cried as much as he did when she was skewered by Sephiroth's blade. How can I forget the tears streaming down his face as he attacked Jenova? We all hoped we wouldn't have to witness him weep again. Although I truthfully cannot pick which of Aerith and Tifa he loved. I know for a fact from his past that he once did everything he could for the attention of Tifa, but having never gotten it when he needed it, maybe that's why he felt more for Aerith? The dear flower girl had a strange attracting aura about her. And now we walk the planet without her.

A sigh escapes me. It hasn't been long enough to heal from the morning of our friend, but I still worry for Tifa having seen disappointment on her face whenever Cloud has that faraway look for Aerith.  

Clank.

Clank? Did I just hear that? I hope not. Anyone that has been close to me ever since my…forced alteration, will know that a clanking noise means my artificial arm is moving. Funny, As far as I can see, by leaning on this railing I'm not exactly allowing much movement to permit. Perhaps it was just my imagination. 

Clank.

Perhaps not. Now I am worried. The only other cause of movement is…

Clank.

Shit. I look to my claw in a state of climbing panic as I see the metal of my arm pulsing and lifting. Why now? The metal then begins to change color, darkening, gradually being engulfed by dark flesh creeping from my arm and devouring the claw. My remaining hand begins to change as well, growing black talons and changing purple. Then the pain in my chest and head begins. 

"YUFFIE!!!" I only hope that she hears me, or one of the others for I can never control myself like this. I stagger forward towards the entrance, hardly capable of keeping my balance. My legs buckle under me, unsteady from the morphing taking place.

"YUFFIE!!! CLOUD!!! H-HELP!!!" I feel incredible pain shoot down my spine and circle m shoulder blades, moments before a spray of hot blood it spread across the deck as a pair of ebony lined crimson wings burst from my back. I scream in anguish. The pain is maddening, and just as my eyesight changes too, I glimpse Cloud and Barrett just appearing from the entrance with weapons in hand.

And then I remember nothing, slipping into dark unconsciousness as a hidden being within me takes control…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bright light is hurting my eyes from above, despite my tightly shut eyelids. My head hurts excruciatingly, and I feel torn and weary all over my body. I'm waking up. Cracking one eye open, I shut it again because of the lamp directly over my head. It takes some effort, but I manage to raise my head and glance down briefly. I'm lying on an unknown bed, bound to it by six strong straps. Two are around my wrists and fastened to the underside of the bed. Another is across my chest, and the other three are secured around my legs. I was obviously not very cooperative earlier. I let my head fall back and close my eyes, not wanting to observe the bloodied bed sheets any longer. My clothes had been changed, but the stench on blood still pollutes them.

"Vincent?" 

Tifa's voice. Her voice came from somewhere to the above left of me, but a manage little more than a throaty murmur in response. 

"Vincent? Are you alright?" Tifa asks again.

"Tifa…" I answer with effort. She encourages me to go on, "please turn that light away." My eyes feel some relief as the red underside of my eyelids becomes black, and I sigh. She offers me water, which I glad accept from the bottle she holds to my dry blood tasting lips.

"Vincent, what happened?" asks Cloud's voice from further away. I don't answer. I'd much rather him answering that same question for _me._ I only know I transformed, not much after that. 

"I didn't want to lay down, did I?" I ask a question of my own, knowing this will cause them to explain what happened. 

"You were only half yourself again when we got here," Tifa explains, "We had to get you down somehow. 

"We'll just leave them on for a little while longer, okay buddy?" Cloud reasons. "You had a convulsions while you slept, so incase you transform again, we can act faster." I nod weakly, hoping they'd tell me where the hell we are. 

"We were really worried, Vincent," Tifa says gently. I sigh.

"Yeah, so was I."

"We had to fight you to get you back to normal, and by then we had already reached Kalm."

Ah, okay, so I know our location now. 

"Wait, you had to fight me?"

"Yes, we did."

I spring up in alarm, ripping the straps apart from my forced movement. Sitting up I immediately look around to Tifa, sitting at my bedside, and Cloud leaning against the opposite wall. Cloud's left arm is covered in bandages, and he has a decent burn mark on his right cheek. He's not wearing his SOLDIER uniform now, and is standing about in T-shirt and track pant. And the lovely Tifa beside me, sitting in a short sky blue garden dress, several fading bruises on her arms and a healing gash on her forehead.

My heart feels like it's going to break. I slowly reach out and take her soft cheek in my ungloved hand. I've done such damage to my friends. I don't care how much emotion I'm showing here, I only care that I'm done harm to the ones that I truly care for. 

 "Oh, Tifa," I gasp out, my voice etched with grief, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry Cloud." I drop my arm and look away, disgusted with myself. I hear footsteps approach the bed, and then a hand is gripping my shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault." I could laugh at Cloud's words, but I won't. I just place my hand over is and hold it tight. I squeeze my eyes shut, still feeling a coming flow of disgrace. 

"So sleeping beauty is awake?" comes a sleepy voice far to my left. In unison with Cloud and Tifa I turn my head and spot Cid, shirtless and sitting up in his own bed. I truly didn't know there was anyone else in here. 

"Take it easy on yourself, Vince," Cid says, "none cares as long as we're all alright." I smile faintly at his kind words, but I still feel like a burden to these people. I feel as though I can't change it as long as I'm still s monster, still not human.

Next Chapter - Sanctuary. 

~QueenQeeko.


	2. Sanctuary

Disclaimer:

I would absolutely love to own Final Fantasy VII and Vincent Valentine, but I don't, so I've got to make do with a little fanfic instead.

FF7, Vincent Valentine and everything else that's got to do with the FF7 world belongs to SquareSoft and not me.

Hear that? NOT ME!!!

By QueenQeeko.

**Flesh, Blood + Titanium.**

****

Chapter 2 – Sanctuary.

I've never liked mirrors. They always lie to me. They tell me I look professional and attractive. The mirror I'm standing in front of is telling me that I look good in black and white. My reflection shows my simple black slacks and my white button-up long sleeve shirt. Formal, yet modest. I would be able to pull any lady I wanted if I produced the behavior to go with the outfit, and any decent man would respect me. Hah. I sigh, leaning my head against the mirror and closing my eyes. If only the world knew what I am inside, they would not come within ten feet of me. The mirror only reflects my appearance, not my true self. God, why does formal clothing always have to make me look so good?

I look around to my belt, miserably hanging over a chair with my bandana. I look back to the mirror. I do not really believe I need my bandana right now, I am not fighting, thus I do not need to hold it out of my face. Besides, red up top wouldn't go well with this costume. I'm not entirely sure how I came to acquire a dark menacing appearance as I did, my choice of clothing being to blame for that. However, I suppose it suits the warning I would rather most people to be given. I've had people gaze upon me at the Gold Saucer (what an irritating place) with envy. Apparently I look 'cool' and impressive in my black shirt and pants with the red cape. Whatever floats their boat is fine with me as long as I'm not directly pestered with praise. My fashion sense while essential isn't a top priority, but I have to decline _this_ look.  

It was nice of Reeve get me these clothes from town, but I don't really like them. I don't look dangerous enough, unlike the way my other clothes bring a whole atmosphere of dread with me. 

I begin to unbutton the shirt, fingers quickly shooting down the line with a skill born from years of weapon handing. As I reach the last button though, the door behind me opens. The mirror makes a little more use of itself as the reflection allows me to see Tifa poke her head into the room.  

"Not done yet?" she asks, slipping into the room and striding over to me. I feel the heat in my cheeks climb as Tifa stops at my side, looking me up and down. She smiles. I swallow.

"Don't look so embarrassed," Tifa says softly, shooing my hands away from the garment as she does it up herself. She leaves the top two undone, I would suppose to create a slightly casual look. I can see she'd still wearing her blue dress from last night. As well as that, I can see that her wounds are also healing. The effects of Cure magic work wonders. I'm pleased to see she is doing better. I can only wonder about how the others are progressing. 

"Ready to go?" Tifa asks, and I answer her with a slight nod. Our group had decided last night that we should have a small meeting today, and the venue chosen is the Kalm town pub. Not the most appropriate place I would have thought, but the decision was made without me. I keep my thoughts to myself of course as I follow Tifa down the stairs. The way her hair bounces really is almost hypnotizing. She flicks a stray lock away from her face and I shake me head, letting my thoughts clear. 

Getting out of the inn I suppose is better for me, and the town has that overall feel about it, as though being out and about throughout the town is about the best one can do for oneself. I believe I'm also entitled to argue that point. But alas, I will not bother. I have other matters to attend to. 

The pub when we reach it reeks of alcohol, sweat and tobacco smoke. Revolting, but the local men don't seem to mind it. I reluctantly enter with Tifa, pleased that at least our friends chose a place towards the back of the area, away from the stench and the noise. The entire group has donned new clothing and is sitting around a large wooden table –And I notice even Red XIII up on his own chair- already discussing a few issues already. Tifa takes an empty seat next to Cloud, and I'm offered one next to Barrett. I sit down, accept the drink placed in front of me, and keep my eyes on the beer stained table. 

"So what took so long?" Cid asks with a raised eyebrow, and then takes a long pull at his own beverage. I shrug. I don't really think it's his or anyone else's business why I took my time getting here.

"It doesn't really matter," Cloud says, saving me, "but what does is what we're going to do now." Ah, I should have thought so. It was bound to come up some time. Cloud drains the last of a scotch and sets it down addressing us all. 

"Well guys, tell me what you think? What do we do from here? Travel? Disband? What are your individual plans?" Well, straight to the point that is. Cloud is one for speeches, so I guess he really is at a loss for words. I steal a glance around the table. Barrett scratching his head; Marlene sitting on his lap with a glass of chocolate milk; Cid lighting another cigarette; Yuffie stirring her orange juice; Reeve staring at the floor; Tifa watching Cloud; Red XIII resting his head on the table. All are remaining silent. Good. At least there is some time to consider actions. 

I look back at the beer in my claw, my hair falling about my face. Well I guess it isn't that easy a decision for any of us to make. Here we are, a group of individuals that could really very easily just go straight back to our own lives. Surely, the others are wondering about that though. Breaking up would possibly lead to never seeing one another for a conceivably long time, or, perchance, ever again. Personally, I'm not really sure how I would endure that myself. We are indeed very unique people. I'm sure none of the group would enjoy the concept of parting from our leader to begin with, as he is a very admirable person. Yes, I can openly admit that to myself and I'll openly exhibit respect for Cloud in public. However, I am most certain that my tolerance is at a higher level than my comrades. 

"Cloud…" The voice belongs to Yuffie, and all turn to her except for me.

"Yeah?" Cloud answers.

"I wanna go home, but I don't want the materia anymore."

"You're free to do whatever you want, Yuffie. Everyone is." 

Oh, that's a relief. I didn't escape one dungeon to be shackled to another. I glance up again to observe my friends. Marlene is looking at me. Her large, bright brown eyes staring at me with innocent curiosity, yet there is uncertainty there as well. I turn my eyes away. I probably frighten her. A scary, brooding man like me would scare little four-year-old girls.

"I think it's been too long since we've all had a chance to hang at home," Cid says, dousing his cigarette butt in the bottom of his now empty scotch glass, "so really, if anyone has a place they can and want to go home to, I'll take you there first." He raises an eyebrow at Reeve and says, "I already know your case, pal; you can stay with me for a while." Reeve smiles appreciatively, not entirely sure how to say 'thank you'. Everyone has that expression that says they agree with those terms. Wonderful. It really is. At least we seem to know what we're doing. Or they do. I have to decide yet where I shall retire to. 

"Daddy, where are we going to live?" Marlene asks her father, no doubt worrying. 

"We're going to continue staying with Elmyra here in Kalm until we decide otherwise," Barrett answers lovingly to the child. I do not wish to listen to this much more. I rise and depart with a polite "Excuse me," and before anyone can stop me I'm already to the exit, leaving a full beer where I previously sat a moment before.

I do cherish clean air, yet somehow I seem to always be denied a generous supply of it. I breathe in deeply as a breeze passes, carrying a little of my hair away from my face. Basking in the moonlight and streetlights, I decide to go for a stroll. The town of Kalm reminds me of Nibelheim, yet in a good way. Both are mostly quiet, and don't exceed the usage of Mako power. As I glance around this settlement, I can see windmills in construction just outside the town fences. For the first time in a long while, I feel somewhat…at ease. It has been so long that I've been so much as 'happy' that I am not familiar with how it feels, but for now, I feel content. 

And now I feel surprised, as I am suddenly knocked forward and several food cans go rolling pass my feet.

"I'm sorry!' a voice behind me squeaks. I turn around and spot a young lady with a half bag of groceries. 

"I'm very sorry, I tripped over!" she cries, looking utterly ashamed of herself for bumping into me. Poor thing. I smile gently, and silently begin to retrieve her lost items. She just watches me with shock and embarrassment, and once her bag is filled again, she bows her head, thanks me and runs off. I am mildly amused at the pretty young thing's manner; she is very obviously a polite girl. It's almost like she thought it a crime to make such a simple accident occur. 

"You're a nice man," says a little voice behind me. I am beginning to wonder why I always have to turn around to face those who are speaking to me. But I do that again, and this time I find Marlene and Red XIII gazing at me.

"I am?" I ask, brushing my black hair out of my eyes, slightly boggled with the accusation. Marlene just smiles, and stepping forward takes my remaining hand. She then pulls on it, and begins to move towards the Item and materia stores. I believe she wants to go for a walk. I don't mind holding the hand of this child. She would be safer here for it. Red XIII then appears at my side, walking with us along the cobblestone streets. 

"You haven't said where you're going yet, Vincent," the flame colored beast says, peering at me with his good eye. I have a knack for making incompetent decisions, as my one to leave the bar has earned me the extra concern and attention from the group. I appreciate their thoughtfulness, but I would rather be without it for now.

"Don't know where I am going, my friend," I reply, watching my path. Marlene then tugs on my arm towards a park bench, and we sit, the young girl leaning against my left arm. Red XIII remains on the ground and sits resting his head on my knee. I absently stroke his head with my right (and only) hand, closing my eyes and reveling in the cool evening.

"I suppose the ShinRa Mansion is always a possibility," I say, throwing the few thoughts I had around into the open air. Red raises his head from my leg and twitches his ears. I open my eyes and look him straight in the eye.

"You can handle going back?" he asks. 

"I believe so. Cleaning the place up to live there would keep me occupied." I glance down notice that Marlene is nodding to sleep as she leans on me. A little yawn escapes her. I should probably be getting her back to her father. I know not what time it is, but I am sure it is well and truly due time for this girl to be in a bed. I gently take Marlene into my arms and stand from the bench, cradling her in my left arm and hold her up with my right. I make a return trip to the inn with Red XIII in tow, only to find Barrett just entering the inn at the moment we arrive there. 

"I knew she'd be in good hands," he says to me quietly, taking his daughter from me carefully. The girl squirms a little, but does not wake. 

"Thanks, Vince," Barrett says, "goodnight." 

"Goodnight," I answer and turn back into the inn as Barrett goes away to Elmyra's new house. Red XIII yawns as we enter our rooms, and curls up on a pile of blankets on the floor. I don't of course, I have a proper bed. I lie down and close my eyes. I think the mansion is the only place I have left. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nibelheim. Well I'm here now, why consider it further? The only ones remaining on the Highwind now are its captain, Cloud, Tifa, Yuffie and Reeve. Now we've come to my stop. 

"Well goodbye everyone," I say as I address then from the bridge doorway. Like all of them, Cloud looks very unsure.

"When d'you think we'll see you next?" he asks, approaching me. I look him straight on, contemplating that question. 

"Truth be told, Cloud, I'm not sure," I say, for I really don't, "Hopefully it won't be too long."

"Hope so," Cloud says, extending his hand to me. I don't hesitate; I take his hand and shake in firmly.

"Thanks, Vince, for being a loyal ally and friend," he says, "what you and the others have done is beyond rewards." I let his hand go, nodding to him. I couldn't ask for a better reward than such caring friends. Tifa walks up to me next and kisses my cheek.

"Take care," she says. I take her into my arms and hold her tight, knowing it is the first and last time I'll get to do that for a long while. 

"I will, Tifa," I reply, letting her go, "Goodbye my friends, fare thee well." With that I turn and proceed down the corridor, up the rattling stairs and out onto the deck, overlooking the town of Nibelheim. I sigh as I descend down the rope ladder. Touching the group I back away as the Highwind lifts up and moves away, leaving me in the town of my past doom. I only hope now I succeed in making it into a new sanctuary. I arrive at the front doors of the abandoned Shinra Mansion. I have to face my fears some time, so I open the door, and go inside. The entire building is covered in layers of dust. I might as well get to work.

I don't really know where to begin. Hah, I know very little to clear myself up on that. Perhaps it's time to clear that away. I stop these thought though when I come across the room that Lucrecia died, after she had collapsed at the inn and was brought here. I feel sick. I run out of the room as fast as I can, I can't stand the sight of that room. I stumble past some grimy windows on the raised area, and lean against it. I need to fight that memory. I won't be at peace in this house if I do not.  

Next Chapter - Interpreting What I've Forgotten. 

~QueenQeeko.


	3. Interpreting What I've Forgotten

Disclaimer:

I would absolutely love to own Final Fantasy VII and Vincent Valentine, but I don't, so I've got to make do with a little fanfic instead.

FF7, Vincent Valentine and everything else that's got to do with the FF7 world belongs to SquareSoft and not me.

Hear that? NOT ME!!!

By QueenQeeko.

**Flesh, Blood + Titanium.**

****

Chapter 3 – Interpreting What I've Forgotten.

Clean cool water is one of my favorite creations on this planet, for it is a rejuvenating cleanser of the body. I take generous swallows from my water bottle, and then lean back against the wall to look over my work for today. 

Every wall has been scrubbed down with chlorine solutions to remove the mold and scum from the wallpaper. Yes, every wall. My nose is apparently somewhat sensitive, and eliminating any cause of a disgusting odor is on my top priorities list. Thus, it was time the filth was expelled. I do admit my error of adding too much chlorine to the hot water bucket when I very first started; I had choked for a decent few minutes after I got a strong whiff of the powerful fumes. Now, another day, another operation completed.

When I had first come here three months ago, my first objective was to attack one of the bedrooms for the night. The next day I moved to the kitchen. That in itself provided days of cleaning for me. I needed both a bedroom and a kitchen in working order before I could live here and operate properly, and my progress since that time is obvious. Having cleaned every window in the building once a fortnight from the moment I started living here, I have at least enabled myself light into every room.    

My next task was to restore power, and this took little effort except from locating the fuse box. From there I removed cobwebs and spiders, forcibly ejected monsters from the building, revived furniture, and swept floors. For any normal household this would be a fairly simple inventory of chores, but due to years of being uncared for, an entire mansion became a mission. Today my remaining work demonstrates a close is drawing nearer. I just wonder what I will do with my spare time after this though. 

The three months of renovating and rearranging has bestowed me a chance to place my thoughts on my activities, rather than on any other issues. I am at one of those stages again where I sit back and start thinking again, and I think I'll start depressing myself further. That does not necessarily insinuate I have been neither cheerful nor miserable during these past few months, but really, besides being thankful for life, I cannot successfully locate a motive to be jovial. However, I will take consequences of action as I go along, for one cannot plan their lives with productively and make it so. One can plan one's entire life but then one only has limited control over it. 

So where will I proceed to when my labor is completed? I've already deliberated about that question a great deal. Am I worried life will become boring? No, more over that the boredom will be replaced with painful insights into the past. Well, I'll have to decide soon. Right now, I believe I have earned myself a reasonable evening off. And I will now go and clean up. I rise from where I am sitting on the floor and as I exit this room with the beaten up safe in the corner I pull my paint splattered T-shirt over my head and flick my hair back. I am sporting my red bandana still, for I found it irritating when ebony locks repeatedly fell into my eyes as I toiled.  

Reaching the large bathroom of this mansion I fling my shirt onto the floor for I don't really care for now where it ends up. I strip down from the rest of my clothes as well, hanging my bandana over a chair beside the ancient bathtub. I would not accept getting it dirty for it is one of my sentimentally important articles of clothing. Having re-established the plumbing I now have a healthy supply of fresh mountain spring water that this town has plentiful quantities of. Stepping under the strong jet of warm water in the shower I almost feel as though I could get drunk from the refreshing and soothing sensation of it pulsing against my shoulder blades. 

Relaxing under the stream takes very little time, and then I mechanically begin to wash myself free of the grime I have acquired while abolishing it from the building. I can't help but notice as I do every time I'm in here that the water makes a regular 'ping pang plunk' sound on my claw. The metal of the artificial arm has never shown signs of rust in the thirty odd years I've possessed it, therefore I've never bothered concerning myself with protecting it from any element. Although of course I would much prefer my real arm, but I've come to accept that I will never retrieve it. 

And now I soak my head under the gushing water, letting it flow through the long locks of black silk. My hair has always been surprisingly easy to care for, and I take pride in knowing at least it isn't a crime taking pleasure from the sensation of water saturating my scalp. 

Once I finally emerge from the shower I whip my heavy wet mane around behind my shoulders and take a towel from the towel rack. I dry my face and my body, not make an effort with my hair just yet, as miniature rivers running down my back does not bother me in the slightest. I wrap the towel around my waist after a while and depart for the main bedroom, taking my bandana with me and kicking my work clothes aside. Having obtained a large sum of gil throughout my adventures with AVALANCHE, purchasing new possessions has been an easy assignment. I have new clothes and can procure groceries from the local stores whenever need be. 

My wardrobe is neatly packed with numerous different articles of clothing and I pick and choose without much thought, happy enough to wear anything comfortable. My selection ends up consisting of dark blue jeans, and a long sleeve shirt. Underwear is a given. 

As I pull on my denims I begin to let my thoughts drift again, as these last three months have been a very uncommon change of pace for me. In all honesty, I've felt at peace on many temporary accounts, yet somehow that feels wrong at the same time. I sigh. Yes, I have been forgetting myself a lot lately. I am still weary, as though thirty-year-old burdens are still alive. Starting a new life is practically what I'm doing, when I could very easi-

I am cut off from that last thought as I hear a faint knocking. 

There is someone at my front door. Knowing fully well that it takes time to answer the door considering the distance from door to bedroom, I race out immediately without my shirt and with the towel still draped around my shoulders. I reach the door handle and pull it open, revealing a woman with long brown hair who was just turning to leave.

"Tifa?" I am a little surprised to find her here on my doorstep right now. I didn't think that I would be seeing anyone from AVALANCHE for a good year's time. Still, I am not complaining, for at least I received my first preference in visitors. Nothing has changed about her in the last three months, although her choice of attire has. She is wearing a long maroon skirt and a pristine white blouse. I have never mulled over the image of Tifa in high heels, and yet I am seeing it. She takes the dark sunglasses away from her face and smiles. 

"Hello, Vincent," she says, "I was about to leave, thinking you weren't home."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that," I answer, "that tends to happen frequently here." I step back and gesture with my hand to come inside, and Tifa gracefully proceeds indoors. I cannot help but let my gaze follow her footsteps in those shoes. Very much so this is a refined side of Tifa I had yet to encounter, and it is very charming. A nice touch to the superb person she already is.  

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" she asks. I raise an eyebrow at her question as I close the door, not entirely sure what she means. As my friend points to the top of my head I realize that my appearance is what she's referring to.

"Oh, no, I have just taken a shower." Now I'm left wondering again as she bites the arm of her sunglasses and giggles. 

"I didn't think you were the kind to answer the door without finding a shirt first, considering the modest impression you gave me, but I guess you learn something new every day. Under those layers of clothes you hid a nice body."

I'm glad I don't have a mirror, for I am very sure my face is glowing as red as my cape and bandana. I cough uncomfortably and find an interesting stitch on the rug to stare at. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Vincent!" Tifa exclaims suddenly, and I look back up in uncertainty. "I didn't mean to offend you! I just thought…err that you…uh… oh, I'm sorry!"

"No, no it's alright Tifa," I say, trying to dissuade further awkwardness, "I probably shouldn't have, it's more than likely a rude thing to do." She breathes a sigh of relief and I do internally too. Why haven't I invited her to sit down yet?

"Pardon me, Tifa. Come sit down, I haven't seen you in a long time." It's true, I haven't, although I thought it were going to be longer. She smiles that sweet smile and nods, following me towards a new lounge chair and coffee table I positioned before the raised landing. I excuse myself there, and go in search of my shirt. 

So, idiocy strikes again in yours truly. I could have handled all of that much more efficiently I'm sure. What a fool she must think me to be now. I must take care with my words from now on. I toss my towel to the floor, throw my shirt over my head and go back to my friend whom is currently digging around in her purse for something, but she ceases that when she becomes aware of my return. She smiles again and I pause.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Tifa?" I ask upon my arrival. She responds by rising from her seat and replying, "I would love one."

"No, please, sit. I'll go fix it," I say as she goes to follow me. Tifa laughs and shakes her head.

"You are such a gentleman," she says, and pursues me anyway. I assume she's offering me a compliment so I won't argue for now. As I enter my large humble kitchen I automatically set the kettle to boil and take out two china cups. The teabags are then placed in them, and I soon realize that Tifa has been watching me very closely for the minute and a half I have been in here.

"So how have things been since we all broke up?" she asks, and I sit down beside her on the kitchen bar stools and run a hand through my still wet hair.   

"Not much besides cleaning, as you can see," I say, gesturing all around.

"You've done an excellent job, Vincent. It actually feels like a home and not a nightmare fortress," Tifa says, glancing back and forth with awe. "It's amazing how you've transformed it."

"Thank you," I answer, "I couldn't leave it the way it was previously; no one would want to see me." At this she laughs again, a rather musical sound.

"That's a little harsh on yourself, Vincent! I'm not visiting you because of the house!" I smile back at her, and ask a question of my own.

"And what of you, Tifa?" I press on. "Where has life led you these past three months?" I am filled with concern as Tifa bites her lip and casts her gaze upon the floor, so quickly deflated of her happiness. I sit and watch her for a full minute in mute scrutiny, ignoring the whistling kettle right up to where its button releases and it ceases to boil further. 

"Tifa? What is the matter?" I am beginning to feel that familiar feeling that I've done something terribly wrong. But before I can ask again, Tifa speaks.

"I got into a fight with Cloud a week ago, and I stormed out," she says with a sigh. I am unsure what to say, although fortunately Tifa saves me the pressure as she continues. 

"I was stupid and disrespectful, Vincent, but I couldn't go along like that any more," she says.

"Like what?" I ask. Tifa gives me a sad smile and drops her gaze again.

"I couldn't continue sitting around while Cloud still mourns Aerith. Cloud…can't make up his mind," Tifa says slowly. "He told me that he does love me, but he still gets that faraway look for Aerith and I know he misses her. You probably wouldn't have noticed him doing that." How wrong she is. Little does Tifa know that I kept a very close eye on everyone in AVALANCHE for ludicrous amounts of time. I am very aware of Cloud's behavior, and for a long period I've worried for Tifa's feelings on that matter.

"I said some things I shouldn't have… and Cloud got very angry with me," she continues, drifting off again.

"What did he do?" I ask immediately. 

"He slapped me across the face and said I was speaking ill of the dead, and said he didn't want to hear anyone talk about Aerith that way," Tifa says, sighing. "He's right though, I shouldn't have said the things about Aerith the way I did just because I was jealous." 

Any respect I had for Cloud has instantly gone out the window. 

"He **hit** you?" I growl, and Tifa doesn't respond. "Tifa, don't you let him get away with that."

"Oh, I didn't. I said he obviously lied when he said he loved me because apparently I was only filling a space he really wanted Aerith in, and then I left."

"I'm pleased you did," I say, suppressed anger evident in my voice, I'm sure. I place my hand on her shoulder and tell her firmly, "Tifa, promise me you won't let him do those things to you. I don't want you to be harmed in any way." Instantly a sad smile spreads over her face, and Tifa leans over and embraces me. In turn I wrap my arms tightly around her as well, breathing in the scent of her hair and wishing no more pain to her. 

"Thanks, Vincent," she says, and then she leans back, smiling that sweet smile. "How about that tea?"

"Ah, yes," I say, and I rise to pour the water. Perhaps it's just me, or maybe I somehow saw this coming. Whatever the case, the next time I see Cloud he better hope he's altered his attitude.

"Milk?" I ask, and Tifa shakes her head clear from a daydream.

"Yes, thank you," she answers, and I pour a splash of milk into her cup as I extract the teabags and discard them into the sink. Returning to Tifa's side I place her cup and saucer on the bench by her delicate hand. As she takes her cup with a dulcet "Thank you," I watch her dainty fingers carefully. One would have thought that under those tattered combat gloves Tifa always wore that her hands surely would have donned several calluses and scars, although yet again I notice things that are not only unexpected but also rather intriguing as well as appealing. Clear of injury and deformities, scars and cuts absent. 

"You don't take milk, Vincent?" 

"Hmm?" I glance at Tifa and then back at my tea cup as Tifa sits looking at it as well, "Oh, milk. No, I prefer my tea with a lack of dairy."

"Okay," Tifa murmurs, "interesting."

"Is it?"

"All little quirks and mannerisms are. Just little pieces that make you, well, you." She says this last part with a smile. I nod thoughtfully, and take another sip of my apparently milkless tea. Somewhat interesting that Tifa can cause one to think about little things that one wouldn't normally spare a millisecond of thoughtfulness to. With tea, for instance, I kind of just do it automatically, as we all do with several actions when we are on autopilot. However, after my short session on thinking, I find I fail to see what is so interesting about avoiding milk. 

"Oh dear…" I hear Tifa murmur, and then she rises from her seat with her soft dark eyes upon the silver watch around her petite wrist. "Vincent, I have to go now, my house is being reopened for me."

Now, here I am, being at one of those perfect times to be at a loss as to what I should say, ending up saying, "I see." A marvelous reply if I do say so myself, but not for this situation. How Tifa reflects on this answer I have no idea, but I feel a little reprieve as she smiles and hugs me, tight enough that soon my relief turns into air requirement.

"I'll come see you again tomorrow, okay?" Tifa says as she leans back, and I wait for a suitable moment to draw in a breath without appearing rude. I find my chance as she turns around to locate her handbag and do so as silently as I can.

"Take care, Tifa," I say to her as we make our way to the front door. 

"You too," she replies with that lovely smile, "bye." Tifa then begins to head down my garden path. I watch her from the door as she opens the gate and exits the property. I wait until she has disappeared into the growing town that is Nibelheim before I turn and retreat mutely back into the manor. I find myself back at the kitchen, looking out the window as I place both of the teacups into the sink and fill the basin with water. I leave it filled and once the tap is shut off, I make my way to my room. I think I actually feel somewhat content. I had no idea that my friend would be showing up in town, more over come and see me of all people before her house has even been opened. Then I feel a silly smirk cross my lips. How stupid of me. This is Tifa, of course she would do that exact thing. That's how she is. 

Throwing myself onto my bed I sigh and stare at the ceiling. I worry about that young woman. I really do. She's an incurable optimist, and yet she carries a great deal on her mind that she shouldn't. Essentially, now I wonder slightly about her behavior. Surely Tifa is not normally quite so open so quickly with her problems. Considering her high opinion of Cloud, or what I would hope to be a previous opinion, I would ordinarily pick Tifa to keep that particular type of event to herself. I wonder why she spoke so soon? And to me first of all people.

I sigh. I guess I'll have to learn to interpret what I've forgotten. Thirty years in the basement coffin has obviously impaired my social analysis on those I know.   

Next Chapter – These Days Of Appreciation. 

~QueenQeeko.


	4. These Days Of Appreciation

Disclaimer:

I would absolutely love to own Final Fantasy VII and Vincent Valentine, but I don't, so I've got to make do with a little fanfic instead.

FF7, Vincent Valentine and everything else that's got to do with the FF7 world belongs to SquareSoft and not me.

Hear that? NOT ME!!!

By QueenQeeko.

**Flesh, Blood + Titanium.**

Chapter 4 – These Days Of Appreciation.

I'm drowning. I'm choking. Water floods around me, such pressure. There is no end to it. And it's cold. Cold hard suppressing water surrounding me.

I'm gagging and can't find my wrench.

My hand gropes around the damp soil, finally laying my fingers around the familiar handle of my plumbing tool. Instead of tightening or loosening the joint, I swing the wrench around in a large fast arc, the head of the item colliding with the pipe with a disquieting CLANG, bending the pipe and diverting the monstrous spray of water away from my face.

My misadventures as of late are seemingly always wet. I did say that the mansion now has a healthy supply of spring water. And apparently the mansion wants to share it with me. I'm all for that, as long as I can do it of my own accord. I guess I can't complain. I haven't entirely submerged yet. Currently, with surging H2O in plenteous measure, I suppose I should separate the connection **after** I shut the water system off. Well, for now I stuff a decent sized stone into the pipe end, distorting and fitting it roughly. No need to be too gentle. The pipe complains a little and only thin sprays of water shoot from the minor gaps, and it being the time of day where the sky transforms from tender azure to fiery cherry, I suppose I'll attack this problem again tomorrow.

Dragging myself unceremoniously out from under the backyard landing of the mansion, I emerge looking like a creation born from the mud pits of Gongaga's surrounding wastelands. Not exactly how I'd like to be caught looking like in front of-

"Hey there, Vincent!"

I swear inwardly. Well, glancing upwards, I find Tifa staring down at me, amused beyond any doubt.

"Having fun?" she asks, and I am sincerely contemplating throwing a handful of mud on her baggy denim jeans.

"Yes, very much, Tifa," I answer dryly, "would you like to join me?" At this she laughs heartily, and holds out a hand to help me up. I wave her hand away and stand up unaided, saving my friend from getting her hand as filthy as I am. I make my way along the path of trodden on grass around to the front of the house, not bothering to invite Tifa inside for I am aware of her tendency to follow me anyway. This I've learned in the last few months, as she makes herself a frequent visitor.

I find this convenient and thankfully Tifa doesn't find it rude. It feels familiar to the days in AVALANCHE really, seemingly because I don't have to say much this way. I've never been one to deliberately avoid conversation; moreover I just enjoy my silence. Words are not always needed to communicate or to analyze a person; mannerisms and background are quite enough. That is essentially how I sorted each of the AVALANCHE members into categories when I met each one in turn. I was the second last to join Cloud, and from then on I contented myself with reading others and fighting when battle ensured. No one seemed bothered by my silence, except possible Yuffie at the beginning, although I admit being less than kind to her upon meeting her.

I am of course polite enough to direct my friend into the house as an invitation by pointing with my open hand and Tifa smiles and steps inside. She busies herself soon enough in the kitchen and I my obsession with hygiene takes me to my bathroom. This time I bag my clothes with a laundry bag and toss it into the corner, then after that I turn on the shower and stand under it. I watch with minimal interest as the mud is washed away from my body and swept down the drainpipe, and I wonder if maybe I should have hosed myself down before I came inside to avoid clogging up the drain with soil. I dismiss the thought. I am sure this one time will be fine, but in future I'll prevent a reoccurrence. The shower has left me free of the worse of the dirt, and now I seek soap. Foaming the soup from its bar into a thick lather I replace the soap on its small shelf and turn off the water. The lather is then transferred to my body and I work it into my skin, removing the last of the grime and as I do so at the same time work a shampoo into my hair with one hand. When the water is blaring again I am left free of filth and soap alike.

Soon I turn off the water and step out onto my bathmat, only to reach for a towel and finding white tiled wall. My towels are gone. I'm sure I put two there this morning, but unless I'm hallucinating they are not there now. Vanished. And now I hear a small chuckling from outside the door.

"Tifa?" I am almost afraid to guess that this is the doing of my dear friend.

"Yes, Vincent? Missing something?" she answers through the door, and bursts into a small fit of laughter. I thought only Yuffie was immature enough to pull a trick like this.

"Yes, I suppose I am," I reply, still somewhat surprised, "may I have my towels back?"

"Not unless you have dinner at my house tonight!"

Oh dear. She has a valid point, and in an instinct of self-preservation I'm filled with a desire to conceal myself behind the shower curtain. I have so far avoided every request Tifa has made to me to dine with her. It's nothing personal or anything about her, I'm just not used to the formal atmosphere of dinner in a lady's home. Thirty years of detachment from the forward moving world does that to you. Unfortunately I now seem to be caught in a delicate situation.

"Tifa… I… I'm not sure… I've explained to you why I-" I try to tell her only to be cut off.

"Save it for someone who cares, Vincent! You won't get used to that kind of thing again without taking the steps forward, so you either have dinner at my place tonight or you'll have to come out here in the buff to get your towels back!"

Oh dear. Oh dear indeed. I appear to have little choice in the matter. But as Cid would call a 'Beaut Brainwave' I have suddenly thought of something.

"Tifa, if I allow you the use of my kitchen, would you accept dining here tonight instead?" I offer, and I truly believe I sense her contemplating my proposal. Finally I hear shifting behind the door and the drop of what I expect are my towels.

"Deal! I'll run home and get my spices! See you soon!" and with that footfalls charge down the hallway, around the corner and fade off until a door is opened and then soon after that is closed. I step lightly over to the door and open it, taking one of the towels from the floor and wrapping it around my waist. The other towel goes over my head and I rub at my hair, sighing because I know tonight will be a circus.

----------------------

Candles? Indeed, candles make this mansion an interesting sight, but I doubt that it was necessary to place over two hundred candles in the dining room alone. I'll check again. Yes, two hundred. That's a lot of matches. And a lot of effort. I suppose that with the expectant look Tifa is giving me from the other side of the room, I'm obligated to make a comment.

"You've set up quite a sight, Tifa," I murmur, and she breaks into a grin.

"I thought so too. I had dozens of these things already and after raiding the corner store for more of them I decided I might as well make use of them," she proudly explains, crossing her arms over her navy blue blouse. I raise an eyebrow. I myself am dressed simply tonight. I'm currently wearing long gray trousers and a black turtleneck sweater. My bandana is absent, as for now I really am happy enough to let my hair hang free. Tifa, along with her blouse, is wearing tight black jeans. Formally casual attires. Better than chocobo suits.

The table we both stand beside has been set with the same candles that surround the entire room and one side of the hallway. For all the gil spent on candles I may as well have paid for the electricity tonight. Tifa won't have any of it; when she wants something to be catered properly, she'll go the full nine yards and then fix the rest of the room to fit the occasion. What occasion it could be tonight, I'll never know. In fact I almost ask her, but think better of it. What sort of meal Tifa prepared, number of courses and all, I also have no idea. There are two dining chairs placed at the far ends of the table, and set between the shining cutlery are two covered plates of something known as food.

Tifa pushes me to one end of the table, and thus I have no choice but to take my seat. She gives me a visibly annoyed (if amused) look as she retreats to her own place on the other end, motioning me to lift the silver cover off of my plate, and, I would be guessing, begin eating. So I lift the lid and as the steam floats pass my face I take in the mouth-watering scent of the meal in front of me. Seafood in thick spicy sauces with rice and vegetables. I cannot explain it anymore simply nor can I find the words to elaborate on the finesse of the hot meal. I am again in awe of Tifa's cooking. Turning my eyes up at her, I blink and open my mouth to speak.

"Tifa, this looks splendid…" I tell her.

"Try it!" she urges with a grin. Ah, of course. I take the fork on the left of my plate and gently poke it onto a marinated oyster. Bringing it to my lips I take it between my teeth and close my eyes, as per one of my habits when I eat, and savor the expected marvelous flavor.

"I see why your bar was so popular, Tifa," I say, giving her the report. She beams and then picks up her own fork, satisfied with my answer. Indeed, the meal is delicious. I cannot help but wonder what else she prepared as the very large platter with a extra large lid sits in the middle of the table in all its mysterious glory. I do say, this is a strange treat for me. I cannot help the friendly suspicion lurking in the back of my mind however. With that said of course, I question my own views. It has been a long time indeed since I came to be in such a situation. The last time was with Lucrecia.

"Is there something wrong, Vincent?" Tifa asks, quickly noticing that I have stopped eating and my fork hangs in the air by my fingertips. I silently and mentally curse myself in as many foul words that I already know and new creative ones I learned from Cid Highwind. Again my own morose memories and self pity has affected my awareness to my surroundings and worse yet it was in the company of someone so painstakingly observant she would not miss a detail in my behavior should it change at all. I cough with surprise and take a sip of white wine.

"Daydreaming," I answer her simply and return to my meal. She seems to buy this and shrugs it off. Thank whatever-God-might-exist for that. I don't mean any harshness to my friend but I'd rather not disclose this with her. I regard a steamed mussel on the end of my fork. Not that I'm actually considering it; the morsel is simply what I stare at as I continue my 'daydreams'. I am aware of one of the many reasons why I avoided such a situation similar to this. For the life of me I cannot remember some of the ways in which I lived before my alteration, but I know that my standards are no different. Regardless, I still value my solitude.

----------------------

I hope I haven't offended Tifa too much. Immediately after dinner (and the desert she forced me to consume, nice as it was) I assisted her in a hasty clean up of the kitchen and the dining wares used, then took my leave and fled upstairs. I now sit on the high window seat in my bedroom in the lonely darkness, staring out into the night. This is where I'd rather find myself, and feel much more comfortable. Guilty, but comfortable. Lifting my metal claw to my face, I rest my cheek again the cool surface of the back of the guantlet, staring out of the window at the darkening sky, its shine of moon and stars disappearing behind the clouds. Gloomy whether for some, disappointing to others, potentially frightening to young children. I don't really know what I think of it anymore, so many a night I've perched upon a cliff or a rooftop, just staring at theses skys, with the wind in my hair and face, seeking hours of isolation rather than spend it with the only friends I have, or willing to tolerate in some cases.

A mere half hour has passed, and still she remains within the manor. How do I know this? I've yet to hear the heavy doors of the entrance swing open only to slam shut. My friend is still down there, probably dreaming up the worst things about me. Well really, if I was actually sensible enough to give Tifa more credit than that, then perhaps I'd remember sooner that Tifa is not the type to make snap judgements. More likely than not, however, she would be ticking the 'eccentric' box on the notable characteristics of Vincent Valentine.

And it isn't like I can justify my actions as anything else but cowardly. The real question is whether I'm actually up here feeling sorry for myself and angsting it up, or if I'm bitterly swimming through my frustrations toward a proper solution.

The answer never comes to me. There's a noise coming from downstairs, derailing my train of thought. Wait. Not a noise... a melody.

Is that... the piano?

----------------------

The stairs creak under my feet as I descend, the sound they make echoing a thousands times louder to me than they really are capable of doing. Such is the effect an unwanted noise has on one when one is attempting to be silent and undetected. Much to my relief, the object of my scrutiny has noticed nothing at all. Instead, her attention remains... vaguely fixed... on her task at the piano's old ivory keys. From here, in the darkness of the drawing room, hiding under my mane of pitch black hair, I just watch. Tifa's posture is straight, but relaxed, shoulders moving back and forth has her skilled fingers travel the board, eyelids sliding closed here and there. Her face holds an expression of quiet bliss. I'd not go so far to say that this is a personal or soulful display, but I truly believe what I am seeing is definitely emotional. With the graceful piece she plays, the mansion is filled with a romantic ease that I have no problem admitting is a little entrancing. The large intrument has a deep, sorrowful sound to it, and I chance at wondering whether it needs to be tuned before I fall back into the beautiful music emitting from the room.

This was the last thing I expected from her.

Why the woman had not lost heart after my retreat and departed herself us beyond me. Just from looking at her, I can't say that she is doing this to lure me down here (even if it worked...), but it would appear that she's playing in spite of my presence in the house. There's a gentle passion in the air. There's... patience, in the atmosphere. It dawns on me after a moment, and just as I realize, Tifa stops playing, and just smiles at me. She wasn't trying to bring me down. She was just waiting, and filling the time until I came down myself. I hadn't realized until she looked me right in the eyes, that I had crept all the way up to the doorway, revealed thus in the lamp light.

"Welcome back," she greets me.

Dammit.

"Hello."

And then, there is silence. A dead silence within an awkward air between two former comrades. It's so rediculous. Never in my life have I had so many unsure moments and found myself, not nervous, but really concerned with what to say, or how to say it. This was why I separated myself from others. Why I say little and rarely at that. It's just...

"Come in here, Vincent."

...so much easier...

Resigned to being social, as much as I want this night to being over, I step into the room, scowling lightly under the bangs of hair hanging in front of my face. I stand a few feet from Tifa, who seems comfortable and confident all of a sudden. She continues smiling at me.

"I'm sorry," she starts, and before I can tell her not to be, she continues on, effectively giving that pause just long enough for me to open my mouth to speak and end up looking a little silly, "I shoud have asked first, if I could play this." I stare at her blankly, closing my mouth now. "I didn't feel comfortable leaving without saying goodnight, but I didn't want to disturb you yet. I thought maybe I'd play something for you, to help settle your nerves."

She either knows nothing about me at all, or is lying through her teeth. That was not nerve settling. It was heart rate rising. It was skin tingly. It was... _'amazing...'_ Wait. What?

"I must get going," I hear Tifa say, and dumbly I watch as she rises from the piano bench, picks up her coat from the edge of the piano and leads the way out of the room. Calmly. "It was great to finally have dinner with you." I follow her, silently, mustering the last of my dignity from that display of coolness. Tifa never once battered an eyelash, never once made reference to why I disappeared or how it affected her visit outside of saying goodnight. She didn't look for explanation or apologise for chasing me away. She acted like it was a perfectly natural event. Is she... pretending nothing awkward happened at all? I watch her all the way to the door, noticing the unnaturally feminine toeing action to her step. Casually her hair is pulled over one shoulder. A slight sway in her hips and she wanders along in front of me. For my tough female friend, she's appearing more visually charming every day. She took it all in her stride, and here I am, still in disbelief over the odd turn of events, and violently shake my head before stepping passed Tifa to open the door for her. The very least I can do it something polite, I guess. She smiles and me, and leaned toward me to kiss my cheek. Accustomed to this by now, I don't move a muscle, and just gaze easily at her. This is a surface reaction. Underneathe, my mind still reels from Tifa's dismissal of my earlier escape.

"Goodnight, Tifa," I manage, sounding so much like my old self, cold and to the point, when AVALANCHE first woke me up that I faulter slightly before I go on, "thank you for coming, and for your generous efforts." She smiles easily at me.

"Thanks you for letting me. Goodnight"

She is down the steps quickly, and then slows to walk out of the yard, through the gateway, and off into the sleepy town. I stare after her, realizing the truth in her words. It had taken a lot of effort to consent to the night at all, but really, I wonder more about Tifa's expense. Perhaps it was pride that kept her coming back to me, or maybe it was my own for not allowing her to dig a little deeper into my life. Whatever it is, this is something I really should be thankful for, a unrelenting friend who doesn't give up just because I might put up my walls. I glance at my claw, pulling the door closed as Tifa is now long gone from my sights. I won't sleep tonight. I'll be too busy considering these days of appreciation that I have to allow myself to be part of, and not just have them pass me by.

Next Chapter – The Color Of Hate.

QueenQeeko.


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